


Letters From Lovers

by jenorama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7497567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/pseuds/jenorama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Hermione are dealing with a long distance relationship the best way they know how.  Originally published 12 years ago, this is part of my "Reconnecting" Potterverse and is AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Letters From Lovers

by Jenorama

Chapter 1

Ron hurried down the stone-flagged corridor, his heavy bag bumping against his hip. _Late, late, late! It's not my fault though! That owl wouldn't leave!_ At the end of the corridor, he hung a hard right into what looked like a dead end. Taking a quick look around, he walked straight up to the wall and disappeared, coming out into another long corridor on the other side.

More crowded on this side, Ron fought through the press of bodies to his classroom, pausing for a moment before carefully opening the door and poking his head in. The large lecture hall was filled and his heart sank as he slipped in. _Thank God for small favors. That windbag hasn't started yet._

Just as he made his way to an empty seat, the instructor mounted the dais and approached the lectern. “Weasley! You're late! I'll expect eighteen inches on the precedent set by _Grobnik v. Burns_ by next meeting.”

_Why do I always catch extra homework?_ Ron slunk into a seat and fumbled for parchment, quill and ink. Working on autopilot, Ron began to take notes from his professor's lecture while his mind thought about other things, namely his fiancée. His hand froze for a few words when he thought of the impending weekend. _Hermione...I can't wait for her to get here!_ His eyes flicked to his watch, catching the date and he frowned. _Day after tomorrow…_

As much as he would have liked to dwell on his thoughts of Hermione and the weekend getaway they had planned, he forced himself to pay attention to the lecture and continued with his note taking. He quickly reached the end of the parchment and reached into his bag for another piece, hand closing on the letter the bothersome owl had dropped off just that morning.

He drew it out along with another piece of parchment and continued with his note taking. _Hermione would be so proud of me, resisting temptation like that._ As he wrote, his eyes strayed to the envelope with his name written on it in Hermione's neat, precise hand. _I'll wait._ Ron wrote a few more lines, but the draw of the letter was too much and he surreptitiously opened the envelope and pulled out the crisply folded parchment.

_Oh screw it. I'm weak._ Looking to the left and right, he unfolded the pages, surprised by the thickness of the letter. _What could she have to say to me that can't wait a couple of days?_ Ron looked up, gauging his professor's attention and, satisfied that he wasn't going to be called upon anytime soon, began to read.

_Ron,  
I've been thinking about you and the time we're going to spend together this weekend and I have to confess that I've been quite distracted. I find myself almost losing time, even in front of students, thinking about you and the things I want to do to you. So, in all fairness, I've decided to share my distraction. I sincerely hope you are somewhere private as you read this._

Ron looked around the crowded lecture hall and grimaced. _Maybe I should wait. Nah._ Curiosity piqued, he cast another glance at the droning professor and read on. What could his darling professor put in a letter that he would need to read in private?

_Are you somewhere private? I would hate for you to get in trouble or cause a scene, especially in class. If I think about it for a moment though, I know that you are reading this in class. If that is the case, then you are certainly not taking notes as you should. I refuse to allow you to read this any further._

As he read these words, the neat writing that followed them disappeared. _The fuck? Oh, she is brilliant!_ Full of admiration for Hermione's spell craft, Ron shuffled through the sheets of parchment. They were mostly blank now, except for single words here and there, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw some of the words that were left on the parchment. _Hot. Wet. Yearning. Tremble._

_Oh God. Yes, privacy will be required._ Grinning to himself, he slid the sheets back into the envelope and resumed his note taking. As he wrote, he kept turning the select words over in his mind. _Yearning. What is that about? What could she be yearning for?_ The very thought that his lovely Hermione had written him a...steamy letter had him squirming in his seat, drawing annoyed looks from the serious wizard on his right.

After what seemed like a fortnight, the class was finally over. Rubbing his sore right hand, Ron put away his things and left the lecture hall, moving with the mass of humanity out of the double doors. Outside, he blinked in the bright noontime sunlight and looked at his watch. _Two hours until next class. That should be enough time._

He quickly strode across the campus, aiming for the student tea shop on the edge of the grassy quad. He peeked through the windows and found the place deserted except for the very bored-looking girl at the register. Ordering a black coffee, Ron found a table in the corner and situated himself so he had a good view of the door.

Once he was settled at the table, he unfolded Hermione's letter and looked at it. Most of the words were still missing and he took a frustrated sip of his coffee. “Come on, there's no one else here,” he muttered, flipping through the pages. As he leafed through, he saw Hermione's neat handwriting darken and finally fully appear.

“Excellent,” he breathed, marveling again at her brilliance. Eager to see what she had in store for him, he read on.

_I see you have found someplace more private. No more reading letters in class for you, young man. If I were your professor, I have no doubt I'd be able to come up with the appropriate punishment. Would you like that, Ron? Would you like me to punish you? There are many times when you have undoubtedly deserved it. But, that will have to be for another time; that's not what this is about._

At these words, Ron raised his eyebrows and surreptitiously looked around the still-empty shop. _Bloody hell! The things that go through that woman's mind! Although, I have to confess that there have been times when I've..._ Suppressing a shiver, Ron read on.

_Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I was going to share my distraction with you. It's been such a long time since we've been able to be together for more than an hour that I feel myself positively yearning for your touch. For your hand to slide along my skin. Where should your hand start? Sometimes when I think of you, your hands are in my hair, fingers scratching deliciously on my scalp. Often, in this particular distraction, my hair is in a very orderly bun and you waste no time in unfastening it, destroying my hard work at presenting a calm and collected façade._

The bell above the door jingled and Ron looked up, frowning as a giggling couple came in and ordered two coffees. He glared at them, looking as unfriendly as possible as he willed the pair to choose a table far away from him. Once they were safely seated all the way across the small shop, he dropped his gaze and shifted a little in his own seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. The image of Hermione with her curly brown hair cascading around her face had caused a burgeoning hard on. Another gulp of coffee and he continued reading.

_As you well know, I am rarely calm and collected around you. There's something in you that makes me want to lose control, which makes it easy to forget everything and everyone around me. Case in point, getting caught kissing at the Yule Ball. But, I digress. Let's get back to your hands in my hair and where else you might put them._

“God, yes! Let's,” Ron breathed.

_Your long fingers are running through my hair and I close my eyes in delight, feeling your warm lips on mine a moment later. As we kiss, your hands move lower, sliding over the back of my neck and along my shoulders, but it's no good because I still have my professor's robes on and I can't feel your skin against mine._

_I lean harder into the kiss, going up on my tiptoes because you're so tall and open my mouth when I feel your tongue against my lips. Your mouth is so incredibly hot I feel almost as if I will melt on the spot. But, I don't. Instead of melting, I challenge you, thrusting my own tongue into…_

The door tinkled again and Ron's mouth fell open in dismay when he saw the large group of students walk in, chattering noisily. “Oh no, no, no!” The words on the parchment had disappeared, leaving only random, disconnected words and phrases. “Dammit!” Ron blew out an irritated breath and folded up the letter again. He quickly finished his coffee and slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the tea shop in a huff. 

_Where can a bloke go to get some privacy around here?_ Ron walked through the quad, academic robes flapping in the blustery wind and caught sight of the library. _Excellent! What could be more appropriate than reading a letter from Hermione in the library?_

He stood aside as a long stream of people came out of the library before he was finally able to go in and look for an empty study carrel. After several minutes, he gave up. There simply wasn't one to be had in the entire library, a fact Ron couldn't believe. Looking at his watch, he saw there was a bit more than an hour left until his next class and he groaned, drawing a loud “Shush!” from a girl surrounded by books.

_I could go home, but chances of making it back on time for class are slim…_ His next class met only once a week and missing it was not an option. The professor ruled the students with an iron fist and kept them all in fear of tardiness. Ron only needed to be on the receiving end of Professor Stormwort's ridicule once to break the tardy habit.

He stood in middle of the library's extremely busy reading room, helplessly looking around when he noticed a small grouping of squashy armchairs not unlike those in the Gryffindor common room by a window. The grouping was completely empty and Ron made a beeline for it, settling his lanky frame in one.

_Now, to find out about that kiss..._ Unfolding the pages, he glanced around the room, making sure there was no one nearby. _Come on...ah, there we are._

_...your mouth. You taste like that cinnamon Muggle gum you're always chewing and it spurs me on. I stroke your tongue with my own, run my tongue along your teeth. The sound you make when I draw your tongue into my mouth and suck instantly makes me wet. You cannot allow this state of affairs to continue and you grab back the control, sucking on my lower lip. One hand is pressed firmly against the back of my neck and the other comes up to cup my cheek, your thumb softly caressing my skin._

_Where are my hands? I'm sure you can feel them on your back, sliding under your shirt, my fingernails scratching along your heated skin._ Ron gave an involuntary jerk and gasped, sure at that moment he had felt her hands on him. Taking a deep breath, he read on.

_Your skin under my fingers is heavenly; so soft and smooth that I feel like I could touch you forever, just there in the small of your back, right above your superb bum. By now your mouth has left mine and your lips leave a hot, wet trail down my jaw to my earlobe. The feeling of your heated mouth on the sensitive skin makes me shiver. The sound of your breathing in my ear makes me sigh in anticipation._

_It must be excruciating for you, bending down to reach me like that. Why don't we lie down on this comfortable bed? There, isn't that better? I know I like it better when I can feel you stretched out all alongside of me. I do love sleeping with you, Ron. Your arms wrapped securely around me, your warm skin next to mine. Soft kisses shared in the morning...I could go on, but that is for another time._

_For now, we'll go back to the two of us on the bed._

_Our mouths meet again and this time your kisses are more relaxed now that you don't have to strain to meet me. You take your time exploring my mouth, as if you are reacquainting yourself with every contour. My own hands are running across your shoulders and into your hair. At this point, I do have to admit to myself that I do like your hair a little longer. I like weaving my fingers into the thickness of it and, I do sort of like to tug on it a little._

As he read, Ron's scalp prickled with the memory of Hermione tugging on his hair and he unconsciously smoothed it over, eyes still glued to the letter.

_Have I told you that sometimes, well, most of the time, when we're together and you're touching me, I feel like I'm going to burn up? Sometimes I feel like I'm either going to be completely consumed by a raging fire or I'm going to burst apart into a million tiny, happy pieces. All because of you touching me. That's the way I feel right now, as your hand moves down the front of my robes, opening them and sliding inside to touch my bare flesh._

“Oh God,” Ron whispered, feeling his erection return with a vengeance.

_Do you know what one of the things I love the most about you is? I love the fact that your hands are always so warm. I never worry about you touching me with cold hands and I dearly wish I could say the same about my own. But, you never complain when my hands are like icy blocks._

_Where were we? Oh, yes, on the marvelous bed and you are sliding your wonderfully warm hand underneath my robes. I am watching you, seeing your reaction to the fact that I am wearing absolutely nothing underneath, almost like when you visited me at the castle for my birthday. You smile my favorite smile, the one that lights your eyes up and carries hints of the delights to come._

Ron flushed as he read her words, startled that she had those thoughts of him. About his hands and his smile. He glanced down at his hands that gripped the parchment and raised an eyebrow. They looked like his hands to him and didn't seem special in the slightest.

He sat up straighter in his seat and took a quick glance around the library. He saw a girl heading straight toward his grouping of chairs. She looked like she had the intention of getting good and comfortable and he simply couldn't allow the intrusion.

“I'm sorry,” he said as she approached the grouping, “but I'm meeting my study group here in a few minutes.”

“Oh. Are you going to need all of the chairs?”

“Yes. Sorry.” Ron watched her as she moved off in search of other comfortable seating and breathed a sigh of relief. _Now, what happens next?_

_You spread my robes apart and your mouth moves down my neck and I feel the wet trail your tongue leaves and then I tremble when you blow gently on it. A moment later, your soft lips close on my hardening nipple and I arch into your touch._

“Oh fuck,” Ron whispered. _I've done that a million times and it's great every single time, but reading about it…wow._ Aware he was a little sweaty, Ron fanned his face with the letter. “Oh, not again.” The girl he had shooed off earlier was walking back his direction and she did not look pleased.

“I thought you said you had a study group coming?”

“Sorry. I guess they all decided they had something better to do.” Frustrated, Ron shoved the letter back in his bag and stood up. “Here you go.” As he strode through the library, he checked his watch. Only half an hour until class. Mind and body on fire from Hermione's words, his eyes searched the campus, finally alighting on a solitary bench under a tree.

_And if anyone bothers me here, I can't be responsible for my actions,_ he thought grimly, settling himself on the bench. For extra discouragement, he set his bulky bag on the bench next to him. _Can we please get on with it?_

_Your tongue is rough against my nipple and I can feel goose bumps breaking out all over my arms. Your other hand moves to squeeze my other breast and I can't suppress the sigh that comes. I look down and see your eyes meet mine over the swell of my breast and I feel my heart flutter. I know that sounds silly, but I swear it's true._

“Not silly,” Ron whispered, feeling like his own heart was fluttering. He was now uncomfortably hard and very thankful for the academic robes he was wearing. Perhaps he'd be able to get to class without completely embarrassing himself.

_My fingers find the softness of your hair as your mouth moves to my other breast and I begin to move my hips a little. Not moving from my breasts, you put your thigh between my legs and I grind myself against your jeans, loving the feel of the rough material against my soft skin. My breathing quickens and sweat breaks out on my upper lip. I close my eyes, enthralled by the multicolored fireworks that lurk behind my eyelids._

_I love being this way with you. When I'm with you, I know I can relax and do whatever I want. When I'm with you, it's like all of my self-consciousness fades away and I don't worry about what you'll think if I act a little wanton. Knowing you, I'm sure you think it's brilliant when I hump myself against your leg._

“Of course I do. You should do it more often,” Ron murmured.

_It's lovely, you using your tongue on my breasts, but I realize I have gotten off course in my distraction. This is supposed to be about what I want to do to you. So, let's get on with that, shall we?_ Ron's brain promptly had a meltdown and it was a moment before he could continue reading.

_I reverse our positions until you are the one flat on your back and I am above you, pushing your shirt up to expose your stomach. I love your soft, soft skin and the hairs that march all down in a line and I kiss you just there above your belly button. I push your shirt up further to reveal your chest and I see your nipples are already hard._

_Moving up your body, I lightly flick one nipple with my tongue and smile at your gasp. Encouraged by your reaction, I bite down just a bit and you give a little jump. I can tell that you are enjoying this as much as I am. Your face is flushed and when your eyes meet mine again, I can see the black of your pupils has almost taken over, leaving the thinnest rim of blue._

_Your lips are so full and tempting and I move up to kiss them again, the taste of cinnamon sharp on my tongue. As we kiss, my hand moves down your stomach and I stroke your erection through your jeans. Seconds later, I have your trousers completely unfastened and my hand is around your hard cock._

“Oh. My. God.” Feverishly, Ron read on. There was only one more page left now and he quickly turned to it.

_I adore the sounds you make when I touch you. They are impossible to render as written words, so I won't even try._ Ron felt the blood rise in his face. _Sounds? What the hell kind of sounds do I make? I never pay any attention. I know what sounds she makes though…_

Running my hand up and down your hard length is all well and good, but I want to taste you, I want to feel your hardness against my tongue, so I move my lips down your neck and scoot farther down your body. I push your jeans and boxers down to reveal your cock in its bed of soft, red hair. Unconsciously, Ron's eyes flicked down to his crotch and back to the letter.

_I start slow, moving my tongue from the base of your shaft all the way to the tip, inhaling your unique scent. Long licks soon have you squirming on the bed and I feel your hands in my hair. I know what you like, my love and I take the head of your penis in my mouth, thrusting my tongue against the slit at the tip._ On the bench in the sunlight, Ron shivered. _I can't believe I'm reading this. I can't believe Hermione wrote this._

_Your voice above me is a sweet growl and I love the fact that I can bring this sort of response from you; that I can make you lose all coherent thought. I go to work in earnest now, no more teasing as I move my mouth up and down, sucking and stroking. Your bollocks are heavy in my palm and I feel them tighten up as you breathe harder and your hips begin thrusting, fucking my mouth._ “Holy shit!” Ron looked around the quad, startled at his own outburst. “This woman is going to be the death of me,” he groaned, turning his attention back to Hermione's excellently stimulating writing.

_Your hands in my hair tighten when I press down on your hips to keep you still and I know you are close to coming. I release you from my mouth and work you with my hand. The slickness of your skin against my hand arouses me and I feel myself growing wet, but I resist…_ The words disappeared again and Ron almost howled in frustration. Looking around, he saw a pugnacious squirrel sitting up at his feet and he kicked at it. “Do you mind? I need some Goddamned privacy!” he shouted after it when it scampered away.

“Okay, where were we?” The words came back and Ron sighed in relief. _...touching myself. I'll leave that for you. Hearing you whisper my name spurs me on and I suck on you again, harder until I feel your cock stiffen and start to twitch, sending your heated ejaculate into my mouth._

_I know you don't think it's true, but you are beautiful and I love to see you relaxed and sated, your blue eyes sleepy with satisfaction. Oh, but it seems I have forgotten that you are the only one satisfied at the moment. I still have my robes on and I can feel a definite swelling of heat and desire between my own legs. I think it is high time I set you a homework assignment._

Ron snorted in amusement and shook his head. _Your assignment, due to be completed before I arrive Friday afternoon is to write me a letter. Using this one as a guide, I would very much like to know what happens next. I know you have been distracted with thoughts of our upcoming getaway as I have and I would like to invite you to share your distraction with me. You may post it to me or give it to me in person. Or, if you like, read it out loud to me. Your choice._  
_I look forward to hearing from you._  
_Love,_  
_Hermione_

“Oh my God!” Ron let out a long breath and sat back against the bench. He was breathing hard and gradually became aware of the sounds of the bustling campus around him. “She wants me to write something like that? Oh my God!” Ron looked over the letter again and shook his head in amazement as he carefully folded it back up and put it back in the envelope. He found he was having a little trouble making his hands work properly and almost dropped the envelope.

He took a moment to relax on the bench, trying to get his emotions and body back under control, absentmindedly humming along with the chiming of the school's clock tower.

The hour tolled and Ron froze for a moment before looking at his watch. “Shit!” He sprang up from the bench and pelted down the walkway, almost knocking another student over with his heavy bag. “Sorry! Shit shit shit!” Making a sharp turn left, he narrowly avoided a disastrous collision before finally arriving at the double doors to Professor Stormwort's lecture hall.

Eyes fixed on the doors, Ron fought to control his breathing. Stormwort would only be harder on him if he knew he'd run to get to class and still managed to be late. Gathering his courage, Ron opened the door and tried his best to sneak into the classroom.

“Mister Weasley! So good of you to join us!” Professor Stormwort's voice boomed from the front of the lecture hall and Ron froze in his tracks.

“Sorry professor. I was...unavoidably detained.”

“Unavoidably detained?” Professor Stormwort fixed a wide-eyed innocent look on his face as he appealed to the rest of the students. “Please join me, Mister Weasley and explain to the rest of the class exactly why you are taking away valuable instruction time from them with your 'unavoidable' tardiness.”

Gritting his teeth, Ron walked down the steps to take his abuse. He had to admit, it was a very effective tactic. If it hadn't been for that letter, he would have been on time. After what seemed like a hundred years, he was allowed to take a seat and the class moved on.

During the lecture, Ron could not pull his mind away from the events described in the letter. It was fascinating to see how Hermione perceived him and he'd never dreamed in a million years that she would ever write something like that letter. He was very aware of her passion and creativity and this new...outlet quite frankly turned him on. _If I don't concentrate on something else, I am going to have a boner all fucking day._

Deliberately drawing his mind away from Hermione, he concentrated on the rest of the lecture, finally feeling his excitement subside. Relieved when the class was over at last, Ron shuffled out with the rest of the students, feeling as if his brain had been put through the wringer. Wanting to take his time getting home, he walked slowly toward his flat, deep in thought.

_I should storm that damn castle. Nah, that might get Hermione in trouble with McGongall. God knows we've bent the rules enough in that respect. No, I'll wait for her to come to me._ He thought about the closing lines of her letter. _Share my distraction. Read it out loud! I could never...or could I? That's certainly something she'd never expect and to see her squirm…_

The flat was empty when he got home and Ron dropped his bag on the floor of his room, grabbing a beer on the way, eager to begin plotting his revenge. He sat at his desk and grabbed parchment, ink and quill, clearing is mind of everything but Hermione.

_My darling professor, I got your letter and I must say, I found it very distracting indeed..._


	2. Chapter 2

Letters From Lovers

by Jenorama

Chapter 2

_Your voice spurs me on as I plunge into…_ Wait, that's not right. Plunge? What is she, a...never mind. Probably better if I don't finish that thought. God, who knew that writing a simple letter would be so difficult? I've written hundreds of them in my time on this Earth and this one...this one is the hardest one I've had to write yet.

 _My lips come down on yours, my tongue plunging…_ Aargh! There's that word again! Okay, that's it. No more plunging. I'm going to start fresh. I crumple the parchment and toss it into the bin. After a moment's thought, I point my wand and the discarded parchment flashes into fire and sparks. Wouldn't do to have that sort of thing lying around waiting for Mr. Harry “I-would-never-go-snooping-into-your-things-in-a-million-years-Ron-I-swear!” Potter to find.

I stare at the blank piece of parchment for a few minutes and look at my watch again. Oh God. Two hours until she arrives and I have yet to write a single word I'm satisfied with. It's like I'm back at Hogwarts and putting off an essay until the last second.

I give myself a little pep talk. “Okay Weasley. You can do this. It's just words. Randy, nasty words that give you a cockstand like you wouldn't believe.” And it's so true. I've been sitting here for the last half hour, hard as a rock as I try and complete the assignment my oh-so darling professor fiancée set for me. I look around the room, searching for inspiration.

Maybe it's too quiet? I'm the only one here and the silence itself is a distraction. I'll go put on some music. I look through the stack of CDs next to the player and find Holiday in Spain. There we go. Miles. Miles always comes through for me. Snapping my fingers as the sounds fill the empty flat, I sit back at my desk in the study, clutching my quill expectantly.

Nothing. My head rolls back and I stare up at the ceiling. Maybe it's not too late to hire this out? Even as I think the thought, I dismiss it. I'd never get away with something like that. She would know in an instant that it wasn't me writing that. And I don't want to do that to her. And, I especially don't want to approach some bloke (or bird) and ask him (or her) to write a dirty letter to my fiancée.

Inspiration strikes. I could copy from a book! My happiness lasts for about two seconds before I remember what a voracious reader my girl is. She's probably read them all and would take points for failure to cite my source.

What to do, what to do? Head in my hands, I think about what started all of this and I look around the utterly empty study, making sure the coast is clear. Slowly, I slide my desk drawer open and take out Hermione's letter. It's starting to look a bit tatty. Sort of sad, really, when you consider that I've only had the damned thing about two days.

I scan through the words, quickly finding my favorite part. _I start slow, moving my tongue from the base of your shaft all the way to the tip, inhaling your unique scent. Long licks soon have you squirming on the bed and I feel your hands in my hair. I know what you like, my love and I take the head of your penis in my mouth, thrusting my tongue against the slit at the tip._

Does that make me a pig? Reading about my girl going down on me? I love it when she does it and reading about it...well. I know for a fact she loves it when I do it to her. I remember once when... I lean back in my chair and put my feet up on my desk, thinking back to the last time they we been able to spend a significant amount of time together and I feel my stomach jump around.

We had been out in Muggle London, doing a bit of shopping. Shopping for a ring, actually, and we got caught in a downpour with no convenient place to Apparate from. By the time we made it back to the flat, we were both soaked to the skin and shivering, but laughing our fool heads off. Hermione's dark hair was plastered to her head and she complained that she looked like a drowned rat when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror, but to me...to me she looked beautiful.

And when I caught sight of her new diamond-and-sapphire ring on her left hand...it was quite the guy moment. A whole, “this is my woman, so lay off,” sort of thing. I remember she caught me looking, staring, really, and threw a towel at me. “Go dry off,” she said, “and make some tea.”

“Yes ma'am.” I did as she asked and joined her on the rug in front of the fireplace where we had tea and shared a plate of Mum's chocolate-chip cookies. I think I was hard by the second sip of tea and I watched, mesmerized, as she continued to eat and talk, telling me about her students. She must not have been warm yet because her nipples were hard points pressing against the old Arizona State tee shirt she had on. I do wish she'd get rid of those, but I know she loves them so and I can't bring myself to ask her to ditch them. To tell her that they remind me of the time she spent away from me.

I know she knew I was hard—how could she not have? Trackies are comfortable, but not very good at hiding the finer points of the male anatomy. But, she continued to talk and sip tea until I finally gave up waiting for her to run out of words. I sat up and kissed her and all she had to say after we broke apart was this: “I was wondering when you would get around to that, Ron.”  
So, after that, I got around to a lot more and it was bloody brilliant. Now, if only I could write something like that down…

I close my eyes and visualize that afternoon in front of the fire and I start feeling sort of inspired. Bending my head to the blank parchment, I begin to write.

After some time, I finally stop writing and quickly scan over what I have, nodding to myself. It's not my best penmanship, but I think she'll forgive me. Besides, she's not going to be the one reading it.

I fold the parchment up and go into my bedroom, burying the sheets deep in my overnight bag. Not a minute too soon, because Hermione Apparates into the flat about thirty seconds later. She looks a sight for sore eyes in her simple jeans and jumper and I can't wait until this evening, my misbehaving cock already hardening.

Hermione drops her bags and launches herself into my arms, kissing me enthusiastically. Several minutes later, we are ready to speak to each other. “Hi,” I say, knowing I have a idiotic grin on my face. I can't help it; she makes me do it.

“Hi,” she says, in her infinite eloquence, and plants another kiss on my cheek, straining up on her tiptoes. I never in my life thought I would want to be shorter, but she's almost enough to make me want to cut myself off at the knees. Maybe she just needs to wear higher heels.

Her body is pressed up against mine, and I know that if I don't take this situation in hand, we'll never get out of the city today. But her lips are so soft and warm and when I'm kissing her, all rational thought flies out of my head. I entertain the idea of taking her back to my bed for a quickie, but I resist. If I can just tear my lips away from hers for one second…

She does it for me. “Heavens, Ron! We can't spend all day kissing in your hallway! We need to get going!”

Dazed at the sudden change, I nod slowly. “Yeah.” I shake my head and scrub my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, okay. Let's go.” A few minutes later, I am loaded down with bags; my own small overnight bag and three of Hermione's larger, heavier bags.

“What do you have in these? Rocks?” I groan, grimacing at the leather straps cutting into my shoulders through my dragonhide jacket.

“Oh, stop complaining! I just have a few books with me.”

“A few? Does Madam Pince know you're taking about half of the Hogwarts library with you for a weekend?”

“Honestly Ron! It's not even close to half. More like...an eighth.” I see her lips quirk into a mischievous smile and I roll my eyes.

“How do you expect me to Apparate anywhere with all of this?”

“I Apparated here all the way from Hogsmeade with all of those. I'm sure the big, bad Auror can handle a cross-town Apparation?”

“I'll show you big, bad Auror. Besides, I'm just a law student now, yeah?”

Hermione chuckles softly and smiles. “I know, love. And I'm glad.” We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other, before she claps her hands together. “Well, we need to get going!” She Disapparates with a crack and I silently follow, appearing a moment later in the garage Harry keeps his car at in Hounslow.

I drop the bags into the boot and gallantly open the passenger door for Hermione. We settle into the car and finally we are on our way, heading for Christchurch on the Dorset coast. We could easily have Apparated there, but one tends to miss so much scenery that way and it would be a shame to miss the early spring green of southern England.

Carefully navigating the twists and turns of the suburb, I relax once we're on the motorway and glance over at Hermione. She beams back at me and settles her hand on my thigh. Driving Harry's car always makes me a bit nervous even though I know Harry's got a shitload of charms on the thing. I could probably take a header off of a cliff and the damn thing would bounce.

Most of the way, we are quiet, enjoying the scenery and each other's company. The CD player is going, playing one of Harry's dozens of CDs, when Hermione speaks up. “Do you mind if we skip this song?”

“Hm? Uh, no. Go ahead.” She presses the forward button and settles back in her seat, looking out of her window. I run through the skipped song's lyrics in my head. Deacon Blues by Steely Dan. Ah, there it is. _Drink scotch whiskey, all night long, and die behind the wheel._ Well, I can see how that would upset her.

We haven't really talked much about that period of our...relationship. When her parents died and she left, unable to cope with the memories and with me being gone at training. I feel incredibly guilty about the fact that I couldn't be there for her and I know Harry does too. I vividly remember getting that owl and just about going on a rampage when the officer in charge of the survival training wouldn't let me go. “Not in your immediate family,” was all he'd say. That was, until I got back from training and found Hermione'd gone, the most crap time of my life.

But, I don't want to dwell on that right now. Right now, I see that we are pulling into the outskirts of Christchurch and I concentrate on finding the small bed and breakfast I'd booked for our long-anticipated weekend.

In short order the car is parked and we are checked into our room. I am sprawled on the bed, glad to be out of the car. Never really developed the taste for long car rides. Guess it's due to a childhood spent traveling by Floo. Hermione is done hanging her things and is looking at me expectantly. “Yes?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Don't you need to turn in an assignment to me?” She crosses her arms over her chest, drawing my attention to her breasts and the things I wrote about them earlier.

“Professor Granger, I'm afraid you will not be able to receive my assignment until after dinner tonight.” I sit up and pull her towards me, burying my face in the soft wool of her jumper.

“Oh dear. I do believe I stated the assignment was due this afternoon.” Even though I cannot see her face, I know she is smiling and I feel her fingers in my hair, tugging lightly. My mind flashes back to what she wrote about my hair and my cock springs to life. Down boy. Not yet. Later, I promise. “Perhaps I will have to mark your assignment down for tardiness. Turning assignments in on time is very important.”

“Oh, I think I'll get full marks on this one. Now, I am hungry. How about you?”

“Starving! Let me freshen up a bit and we can go.” At these words, I settle back down on the bed. 'Freshening up' for Hermione usually means a quick shower and a change of clothes.  
I must have dozed off because the next thing I see is Hermione nudging my leg with her knee. She looks fetching in a flowery, floaty skirt and a demure cardigan. Just looking at it makes my fingers itch to undo those tiny, mother-of-pearl buttons. Her hair is still a little damp and I smile at her, reaching out to grasp her hand. I begin to pull her down toward me, but she resists and begins pulling back.

“Come on, Ron. You promised to feed me and I'm hungry.” She pulls me into a sitting position and I let out a loud groan.

“Okay, okay. I'm up.” A few minutes later, I've changed into a clean, midnight blue button-down and combed my fingers through my hair. We leave the B&B, the keys to the room jingling in the pocket of my dragon hide jacket. The high street of Christchurch is very quaint and most of the shops are shut for the night. We do a little window-shopping in the twilight as we walk down to the small Italian restaurant at the end of the high street.

When I had mentioned to Bill that we were planning a weekend here, he told me I had to take Hermione to this restaurant and slip the mâitre'd a galleon. “A whole galleon? Are you barking?”  
He just looked at me with that gleam in his eye and smiled. “Trust me, little brother. It'll be the best galleon you've ever spent.”

While I had my doubts about that, I was willing to give his suggestion a try. As we are being seated, I slip a galleon into the man's palm. He looks at me and raises his eyebrow, giving me a small nod. Ever alert, Hermione notices.

“What was that about?” she whispers, leaning toward me.

“Just something Bill suggested.” I smile at her and pick up the menu. Everything is in Italian and I look for familiar words. There. Spaghetti. There are some other words after it, but I don't pay any attention to them.

We place our orders and I let Hermione pick the wine. She's so much better at things like this than me, so I just sit back and let her take the lead. Such a capable witch might threaten some guys, but, well, I'm not like most guys. The wine arrives; a rich, dark red and we sip slowly, sharing quiet conversation over thick, crusty hunks of bread.

I'm spreading herbed butter on my bread when I feel it; the slow slide of Hermione's small foot up my shin. I arch my eyebrow at her and she smiles sweetly. “You know, I seem to remember what happened after the last time you did that,” I say, taking a bite of my bread. Her foot has made it as far as my knee now and even through my jeans, the feeling of it excites me beyond reason. I think of the pages I've got safely tucked away in my bag…

“Oh? And what was that?” She tears a bit of bread off of her piece and nibbles at it delicately before taking another sip of her wine.

“I seem to remember shagging your brains out after the last time you played footsie with me.”

“On your brother's waterbed, no less!” She laughs, her nose crinkling up and I'm so glad that she's not one of those women that works to remain expressionless for fear of wrinkles at thirty.

The waiter brings our food and I see that I've managed to order spaghetti with clams and an exquisite cream sauce. Someone like Malfoy would probably call it “piquant” and “rustic”. I just call it damn tasty. Hermione quietly orders me some white wine to go better with the dish. I miss her foot on my leg as we eat, but I guess she decided concentrating on her food was more important than running her bare foot up and down my leg.

As we eat, I notice her looking a bit pensive and distracted and I wonder if my mention of our first night together has her thinking about when her parents were alive. “What's wrong, love?” I ask, reaching across the small table to grasp her small hand.

She shakes her head and smiles a little too brightly. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Well stop it. This weekend is for eating and shagging. No thinking allowed, yeah?” Hermione raises her eyebrows and a real smile comes over her face and I feel better.

A short while later, the waiter comes to clear our plates and Hermione reaches into her handbag. I watch, curious as she takes something out and sets it on her lap. She looks nervous again and I decide I will be patient and not pester her about what she took out of her handbag. I don't have long to wait, though, because she clears her throat and looks up at me.

“Ron, I have something for you that I've wanted to give you for a while. And I don't want you to take it the wrong way or anything,” she says in a rush, her hand anxiously fingering the sapphire pendant I gave to her. Displays of nerves like this are rare for her and I wonder what I would take the wrong way? She takes a sip of her wine and plunges on. “Anyway, you've given me this beautiful ring and I haven't given you anything.”

Her ring flashes, the blue and white stones reflecting the intimate light of the restaurant and I shake my head. “Hermione, you don't have to give me anything. You've given me your promise to be my wife. That's enough.”

“No, I want to give you something.” Nerves have given way to determination and her jaw is set firmly.

“Well, if you must give me something, can I have one of those Hugo Magnusson watches like Harry's got? Ginny gave it—”

“Ron! I am not going to give you some gadget-filled watch!” Determination has given way to indignation and her brown eyes snap with fire. “Here,” she says, setting a small black, velvet box on the table, pushing it towards me. “I hope you like it.”

I look from the box up to her face. “Are you giving me...an engagement ring?” I raise my eyebrow at her and she flushes lightly. “Is this some sort of Muggle tradition I don't know about?” I'm making light of the situation, but truth be told, my heart is pumping like mad and my palms are sweaty. I've never worn a piece of jewelry in my life and hadn't planned on ever wearing anything other than my wedding ring.

“Well, not really an engagement ring. It's something I've wanted you to have since...since I came back.” Her voice is soft and her eyes are fixed on the box. I start to have wild thoughts of what could be in the box: a severed finger, an eyeball, the head of a very small horse... “Go on, open it.”

“Uh, okay.” I pick up the box and slowly open it. Inside is a very unassuming gold ring. It's a man's ring with a wide band and it has two deep grooves incised into it. The gold between the grooves is rough. It seems familiar and I cock my head and look up at Hermione for confirmation.

“It was my dad's.” Unconsciously, she fiddles with her mother's ring that she wears. “I'd like you to have it. If you want it. If you don't, I'll understand.” She's already reaching for the box to take it back and I draw it away from her.

“Hey, give me a minute. I was just surprised is all.” Surprised is an understatement. I am completely and utterly floored that she would want me to wear her dead father's ring. I feel a little weird about it as I stare at the glinting gold ring. I think of the times I saw it on Mr. Granger's hand and I wish for a moment that I’d been able to get to know him better. At least I’d be able to thank him for raising such an amazing daughter.

The thought snaps me out of my daze and I stroke the cool metal, feeling it warm to my touch. “Why? Why do you want me to have this?”

“You don't like it. Here, give it back. I'll put it away.” Hermione makes another move to grab the box and I pull it out of her reach again.

“I didn't say that. I'm curious as to why you want me to have your father's ring. Why you want me to wear it.”

“I don't know. I just want you to. To know that there's still something of Mum and Dad with us, always.” She looks scared to death that I'm going to refuse or throw the box back in her face and my heart breaks.

“Okay, love. That's all I wanted to know.” I take the ring out of the box and look doubtfully at it. Mr. Granger had very small hands.

“It'll fit. I charmed it myself.”

“Well, your charm work was always better than mine. Here goes.” I slide the ring onto the third finger of my right hand. It's tight at first, but I feel the metal expand over my knuckle and contract around the base of my finger, settling like I've always worn it there. I hold my hand out to her and she inspects it closely.

“It looks good on you.” She quickly leans over and brushes her lips against the back of my hand, surprising me again. “Thank you.”

“But—” I protest, only to be cut off by the waiter bringing coffee and dessert.

He sets down a decadent-looking slab of chocolate layer cake and a dish of deep red raspberry sauce. Hermione's eyes are wide as she numbly takes the fork offered to her. “Wow. That's a dessert, all right,” I say, picking up the dish of sauce.

“Ah, I see your dessert has arrived.” The mâitre'd is standing next to the table and he looks at the dish of sauce in my hand. “That is our chef's special raspberry sauce.” A pointed nod at me. “I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

He walks away and Hermione leans in closer to me, eyeing the small dish of sauce. “I guess a galleon doesn't go as far these days. I wonder what it does?”

“Well, shall we find out?” I tip the dish and drizzle the sauce in a thin stream all over the already rich cake. “Here goes.” I take a bite and pause, allowing the flavors to settle on my tongue. It's very good and I finish the bite, gasping when the most amazing fluttery feeling seems to emanate from my stomach. What has to be the goofiest smile ever spreads across my face.

“What?”

“Oh, you've got to try it!” Eagerly, I take another bite, feeling the same explosion once it hits my stomach. Watching Hermione, I laugh at her reaction to the sensation of a thousand butterflies.

“It sort of tickles!” She digs in for more and soon, there is not a single crumb left on the plate.  
Sipping my coffee and looking at her over the rim of the cup, I feel a familiar heat begin to build up in my loins along with the delicious fluttering. Her face is flushed and her eyes are sparkling. “Where's the bill?” she asks, shifting slightly in her seat. She reaches up and unbuttons the top two buttons of her cardigan and I see the skin there is flushed as well.

“In a hurry love?” I had just been wondering the same thing. Where is that waiter?

“Well, you do still have to turn in your assignment. Oh, there he is.” She flags him down and we settle the bill in record time, leaving the restaurant arm in arm.

“Thank you very much for coming tonight.” The mâitre'd stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “You have thirty minutes until the full effect,” he says quietly. “You are staying somewhere nearby?”

“Yes we are.” I shake his hand. “Thanks so much, mate.” We walk briskly down the high street, hand in hand and giggling like two teenagers. The fluttery feeling has changed to more of a pulsing throb and I wonder what we've got ourselves into. My hands are shaking and it takes me two tries to unlock the front door of the B&B and I don't even attempt the door of our room, mutely handing Hermione the keys.

The temperature inside the room is like a volcano and I throw open the window, breathing deeply of the cool night air as I unbutton my shirt. I feel Hermione's arms come around me, her hands lightly stroking my skin and I lean against her, enjoying the feeling of simply being with her.

That feeling doesn't last very long though, as I feel another quiver from somewhere in my middle. Glancing at my watch, I estimate that we have about twenty minutes before the chef's special does whatever it's going to do. If I'm going to complete my “assignment”, I'd better get this show on the road.

Oh bloody hell. She's pushed up my shirt and is now placing little kisses along my backbone. “Hermione,” I groan, squirming away from her, “you need to stop.”

“What for?” Her lips are red and wet and I groan again, tearing my gaze away from her flushed face and glittering eyes.

“I have something for you. Remember?” I rummage around my overnight bag and pull out the sheets of parchment. Hermione's eyes light up and she reaches for them. “No, no. You sit over there.” I gesture to the armchair and she quickly sits down, primly arranging her skirt over her knees and folding her hands in her lap.

I sit on the bed and kick off my shoes, sitting cross-legged in the middle before shaking out the parchment with a snap. “Now, if you'll remember, you sent me quite a naughty letter and set a very devilish charm on it.”

“Did you like that? Developed that one myself. Very useful for covert operations.”

“Yes love, it was brilliant. Stop interrupting.” I try very hard to ignore the waves emanating from my stomach and...lower and focus on the words in front of me. They seem to swim around a bit before coming into focus and I clear my throat, wishing I had thought to grab a glass of water before starting on this.

I glance over at Hermione and see her eyes trained right on me and I can't suppress the blush that floods my face. I can't believe that I can still blush like I'm fourteen. “Right, well. Okay.” Another throat clearing and I begin to read.

_I must begin by saying that I was very surprised to receive a letter of such a naughty nature from you. That's not to say that I don't think that you are beautiful, sexy and brilliant, but that you've usually been a bit more...reserved, shall we say? And that charm you put on it. I do have to confess that yes, I did start to read it in class. And then I went to the library and then I ended up on a park bench outside. I think all of King's College heard me yelling at that squirrel. See what you make me do?_

_Aside from yelling my fool head off at a squirrel, you made me late for class. For Professor Stormwort's class. And yes, he did take full advantage of my tardiness and humiliated me in front of the whole class. Not only did he humiliate me, he did it while I had to stand there with a raging hard on. Good thing for academic robes, yeah?_

_So, I think you did a very good job of sharing your distraction as your sharing served to distract me until...what time is it now? Now, it's my turn._

I pause for a moment and look back at Hermione. She's leaning forward now, elbows on her knees and her dark eyes bright and interested. She gives me a warm smile, and that fluttering, throbbing feeling intensifies.

_I have never in my whole life known anyone quite like you. I'll be the first one to admit that when we first came to Hogwarts I never would have thought in a million years that you, Hermione Jean Granger, would the be the one that I would want to spend the rest of my life with. That you would be the one to drive me insane with your logical reasoning and your passionate heart._

_Because you do drive me insane, but I mean that in the best way possible. Perhaps, with this letter, I can drive you a little, or a lot, insane as well. And how would I do that? Drive you insane? I think the best way would be giving you only a little of what you want. I know you Hermione, and I know that when you want something, you go after it. You go after it and you don't stop until you've got it all and anything less, well, I suppose it would unhinge you._

_But how will I keep you from interfering with my plans? As I kiss the back of your neck, you're already twisting and turning in my grasp, trying to turn your mouth to mine. I suppose I'll have to restrain you. I know it sounds awful, but really, it's for the best, love._

I hear a soft snort and I look up. Hermione is sitting back in her chair now, one leg crossed over the other. “You don't think I could?” I ask.

“I'd like to see you try.”

“Might have to do that one day. Now, stop interrupting.”

_You are a brilliant witch and you will have to do without your wand for the duration. I nibble along your neck, to that favorite spot just behind your ear and your wand is mine for the taking. That would never work for an Auror and I suppose one day, I'll have to teach you to resist your weaknesses, but we'll leave that for another time._

_Wand safely stowed away, I continue nibbling at that secret spot, my hand slowly moving up and down your side. I can feel your skin begin to heat up and you lean into me, the most delightful sigh escaping from your lips. I quickly unfasten your robes and I find more clothes, obviously designed to frustrate me._

_Your blouse looks to have about a thousand tiny buttons and I raise my eyebrow at you, receiving a smug look in return. We'll see who's smug in a moment, my love. I bend to kiss you again and gently maneuver you to our bed. You lay down without resisting, but I know better. I know how you work and I know you are trying to lull me into complacency, so I use my wand and, in effect, glue you to the bed._

“Is that how you do it, then?”

“What did I tell you about interruptions?”

“I'm just interested in your methods.”

“Look, when I'm done here, we can talk all about my methods. For now, be quiet.”

_I watch you, smiling when I see your hazy look of lust turn to consternation as you try to move your arms and legs, but only end up wriggling quite enticingly. I have control of this situation and you will have to go along with it._

_Bending to kiss you again, your lips soft and warm against my own, I tuck a pillow under your head and pull away. I want you to be able to see what comes next. I begin unbuttoning my own shirt, eyes fastened on yours. I know I've undressed in front of you plenty of times, but never when you couldn't touch me or help me along and I find this very arousing. I let the shirt fall open and I see your hungry eyes fall to my chest and I smile, spreading the shirt and running my fingers over my nipples, feeling them harden at my touch._

The more I read, the drier my mouth gets, but I'm on a roll and I don't want to stop.

_You know, now that I write this, I think I could get into this. I feel my own skin heat up as I draw a finger into my mouth, watching your eyes as they follow. My other hand unfastens my belt and the button of my trousers. The sound of the zipper draws your eyes from my face down to my crotch and I see you smile at the bulge on display there. Leaving my trousers undone to give you the barest peek at my boxers, I move closer to the bed, taunting you with my closeness._

_I trail my fingers down the row of buttons on your blouse and you arch into my touch, trying to twist your body so I touch your breasts, but my restraints do not allow you to do so. Starting at the bottom, I flick several buttons open, exposing your pale skin. You really do need to spend some more time out in the sun, love. I remember, when we were at school, one of my favorite things about the end of summer holidays was seeing you again. You'd come back all tan from your summer adventures and my hands would positively itch to touch you._

_I can touch you now, though, and I do. I have your blouse unbuttoned to just under your breasts and I glide my hand over your soft skin, loving the feeling of the tiny, tiny hairs rubbing against my palm. I notice a change in your breathing. It's become heavier and maybe a touch ragged. I look at you and you narrow your eyes at me, willing me to free you, but I just grin and flick open a few more buttons, exposing your lacy bra._

_Your nipples are hard points and I run the tip of my finger around one and then the other, making you gasp and struggle some more. I part the last few buttons and spread your blouse wide, eyes roving over your exposed skin. I must confess that I am beginning to feel impatient myself, so I push your bra up, exposing your beautiful tits and I lower my mouth, making a long, slow lick from the underside to the very tip. I love the differences in the texture of your skin there. The softness of the breasts, the thicker, pebbled areolas and the stiffness of your excited nipples._

I have to suppress a groan at this. My cock is incredibly hard right now and I am not sitting in the most comfortable position, but I'm willing to suffer for my art. I cast a glance over at Hermione and I see she's leaning forward again, her eyes trained right on me. Taking a deep breath, I start reading again.

_My tongue on your tits, teasing and taunting, soon has you making my favorite sounds in the world. Soft groans, breathy moans and pants and I think I even catch my name a couple of times. My binding allows you to move your hips and you do so, drawing my attention. I slip my hand under your skirt and into your knickers. You are completely soaked and I draw my fingers through your dampness, lightly fingering your clit. I slowly slip two fingers inside your cunt, watching your reaction. You close your eyes and seize your lush bottom lip in between your white teeth and I begin to think that I'm the one being driven insane here._

_Withdrawing my hand and my mouth, I stand up and step back from the bed, shrugging the shirt off of my shoulders. I push my jeans down off my hips and give a little wiggle so they slide the rest of the way down, stepping out of them. My erection has made quite the tent in my boxers and I slide my hand inside, stroking myself. It feels very good, but I'd rather be touching you and I release my hard cock and climb up on the bed, stretching out next to you._

_My hands are everywhere, touching you, stroking you, moving in and out of you. My mouth is on yours, my tongue running over your lips, touching your tongue, moving down your neck. Kissing between your tits, your stomach, dipping into your belly button and I can feel the heat coming off of your skin in waves. Sweat is beaded on your forehead and your eyes are no longer watching me; they are closed and you have this look of deep concentration. I know you are very, very close and I stop._

_Cruel, isn't it? Stopping in the middle like that. Your eyes fly open and you growl at me, willing me to go on. Your skin is flushed, your body more ready than I have ever seen it, and I move away from you, sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching you thrash._

_I have brought you to the edge of satisfaction, but it is up to you to take that step over the edge. I raise my wand and release you, waiting for what you will do next._

I look up from the parchment and clear my throat. The throbbing has changed again and I feel like I'm about to vibrate right out of my skin. “Well? What comes next?” I ask, trying to sound suave and casual and failing completely. My mouth is much too dry for suave.

Forever cool and collected, Hermione looks back at me, a speculative look in her eyes. I know that she has got to be feeling the same buzzing urgency that is only getting worse the longer I resist, but she betrays no outward sign. Her tongue licks slowly across her bottom lip and she draws it between her teeth, biting down and driving me crazy. I can hear my breathing start to quicken, but I am frozen to the spot, mesmerized by those white teeth on that red lip.

Eyes on me, Hermione stands and quickly sheds her cardigan, uncharacteristically letting it fall to the floor. Kicking off her sandals, she shimmies out of her skirt and pulls her top off over her head, leaving her in her bra and knickers. Before I realize it, her wand is out and pointed at me. She whispers something I can't hear and I feel as if a giant hand is pushing me down on the bed. I try to fight it, but it's too strong and I am soon flat on my back, Hermione looking down at me approvingly.

“I think it's time for a taste of your own medicine,” she says lightly, hopping up on the bed next to me. She's so tantalizingly close and I reach out for her, but my arms won't obey my orders. I try lifting my legs, closing my eyes in concentration, but it's no good. I'm stuck and completely at her mercy, something I find unreasonably exciting.

Wide-eyed, I watch as she situates herself on her knees next to my prone body and brings her hands to my face. At her touch, I can't hold back the gasp that explodes from me. The light touch of her fingertips feels amplified by about a thousand fold and I think I know what the chef's secret sauce is supposed to do.

“Oh God,” Hermione says softly, her eyes as wide as mine must be. Her hands move from my face down my exposed throat and farther, running her palms across my chest, pushing my unbuttoned shirt farther apart. In my mind, my memory, I've likened her touch to fire, but this time it really does feel like fire. I can feel a wash of heat in the wake of her touch, almost like an afterimage from looking at a bright light.

I want to touch her, to make her feel like I do and I strain against the pressure holding me in place again, getting nothing but out of breath for my efforts. This does not go unnoticed by my girl and she just gives me a sweet smile and sweeps her hands down to my abdomen, making my muscles jump and twitch in reaction. Her mouth lowers and I see her lick her lips, wetting them before pressing gently on the spot just above my navel.

“JesusbloodyfuckingChrist!” The feeling of those heavenly lips pressed against my skin is like nothing I've ever felt and I worry that I've just come in my pants. She presses harder, her tongue darting out and I feel my entire body contract almost painfully and my back arches up. Her tongue dancing over and around my belly button, she reaches her hands up and pinches my nipples, making them stand at attention. The sensation is incredible and I can't hold back my pants and groans. The spell allows my head to move from side to side and I take full advantage of it as the pleasure generated by Hermione's hands and mouth washes over me in waves.

Our mouths meet and it is incredible. The buzzing inside of me only seems to increase and I fancy that I can feel the buzzing inside of her, too. Our tongues battle, but Hermione has the advantage of height and maneuverability and she wins, taking possession of my tongue, sucking it into her mouth and scraping with her teeth.

The pressure in my trousers in unbearable and I break away from Hermione's incredibly hot mouth with a deep groan when I feel her small hand stroke my cock through my jeans. “Oh God. Hermione!”

“What, Ron?” Her breath is hot in my ear and I groan again. “What do you want?”

“I want...” I'm panting and my mouth is drier than ever and I have to swallow again. “I want you to...oh God...to...hmm...” Her tongue is tracing the shell of my ear, setting off another round of fireworks in my brain and scattering my few coherent thoughts. I struggle against the pressure holding me down, willing it to let me go so I can make Hermione feel the things I am feeling. I want her to feel like her limbs are liquid, like her body is on fire, like she will explode with one more touch.

“Tell me, Ron. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it.” Her hot whisper in my ear sends my muscles into spasms again and I bite down hard, narrowly missing my tongue. She seems surprised at my reaction and she rears back on her haunches, looking down at me with a concerned look on her face. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I gasp, feeling bereft of her touch. She's so near and I want to touch her so bad. I twist some more until I am out of breath and sweating. “Hermione let me touch you. Please!” I've never begged for anything from anyone in my entire life, but I beg for this. I can see the indecision in her eyes. I know she likes it, having me completely at her mercy, but I know that she's also feeling the effects of the raspberry sauce.

I change tactics. “Hermione, it feels so good. I can make you feel good, if you'll let me.” I work to keep my voice from moving into a whine and I am moderately successful. A flick of her wand and the pressure holding me down instantly disappears and I take a huge breath of relief. It's usually small spaces that get me, but I can't deny that I was starting to feel a little anxious under that spell of hers.

But now, I am completely free and I take advantage of my freedom, sitting up and taking Hermione into my arms. Her skin so hot that I'm afraid for a moment that she is feverish and having a bad reaction to the sauce, but I realize that my skin is just as heated. She moans softly at the contact and wraps her own arms around me, holding me tight.

Drawing her bra strap down, I kiss her shoulder, the heated skin heavenly against my mouth and it's her turn to gasp and shiver. I take off her bra and stroke my hands down her sides and over her full breasts. Her nipples are hard and I take one into my mouth, working my tongue over it and using my teeth. I gently lay her down and pull off her knickers. I want to touch her everywhere at once and I have trouble deciding where to start.

Her head is cradled in my palm and I look down at her, hardly daring to believe that this wonderful, beautiful, sexy woman has consented to be with me. “I love you,” I whisper, lowering my mouth to hers. I imagine I can still taste raspberry and chocolate. As we kiss, her hands are moving over my shoulders and down to my waist, tugging at my belt. “Too many clothes,” she murmurs. “Not fair.”

I let go of her and quickly strip off my jeans and boxers, finally freeing my aching cock. I fight the urge to plunge into her immediately and pound away like there is no tomorrow. I feel that would waste my galleon.

Treating her to what I experienced earlier, I cup my hands around her face and move down her neck, tracing her collarbones and down her arms. I move one hand down the valley between her breasts and further down to her own belly button. Hermione's an innie, a fact I am profoundly grateful for. My mouth follows the path my hand took and I dip my tongue into the indentation of her navel. I'm so close to her cunt that I can smell her musky readiness and my belly tightens.

My tongue swirls around her belly button and I sort of hunch over her, moving my hands on her smooth thighs and down to her knees and calves. I sit back on my haunches and take one of her small feet in my hands, massaging gently, smiling when she begins to purr in pleasure. The buzzing inside of me seems to have settled down some, but I am still feeling everything much more intensely than normal.

Looking at her, spread out on the bed with her crazy curls all around her head, I feel the last of my resistance crumble. I need to be inside her, to be joined with her before this extraordinary feeling fades. Careful not to crush her, I lay my body on top of hers, the contact of our hot skin almost too much to bear. The feeling of the head of my cock rubbing against her wetness almost sends me over the edge and I groan, resting my forehead against hers, working to regain my control as we share soft kisses.

No longer feeling like I'm going to explode, I slowly enter her, groaning at the incredible sensation of her surrounding me. The effort of moving slowly takes a toll on me, making me break out in a sweat, but I don't want to rush; I want to savor every single moment of this. Underneath me, Hermione's eyes are wide and I can only wonder at how this must feel for her.

“It's good, yeah?” I ask as I slowly withdraw before pushing in, a little faster this time.

“Oh God...amazing. I can feel...Ron, I can feel...everything.” I push in harder and she groans, closing her eyes, raising her hips to meet mine. I can feel her clit as it slides against my cock and I change my angle a little, eliciting a gasp from Hermione. She opens her eyes again and stares right into mine. “Oh, Ron...Ron...faster please, love, faster.”

Never one to disappoint my lady, I oblige, moving out of her faster, returning to her harder. I love looking at her when we fuck. I love the different expressions she gets on her face and I especially love the way her tits bounce when I pound into her. Almost without meaning to, my rhythm speeds up until I really am banging into her quite forcefully, but she doesn't seem to be complaining at all. On the contrary, she is meeting me stroke for stroke and I feel her fingernails raking across my back and shoulders, the pain intensified along with the pleasure.

My bollocks tighten up, feeling almost like they're trying to crawl back up inside me and I know I'm about to come and I know that it's going to be incredible. Hermione's eyes close and I feel her body jerk, her legs around me tightening in reflex. She pulls me close and I stop moving, panting with the effort of holding back as I let her enjoy her release. After a moment, her eyes open and she looks at me with a lazy smile spreading across her face and I take that as my cue to begin moving again.

I'm only good for a few more strokes before I bury my cock in her with a loud groan, feeling it twitch as I release my load deep inside of her, curling my body protectively around hers as I experience what has got to be the most intense orgasm of my entire life. As I lay on top of Hermione, I am acutely aware of each and every place our skin is in contact and even the feeling of my cock going soft inside of her is mind-blowing. Both of our breathing is very ragged and I begin to laugh.

“What's so funny?” she asks as I carefully pull our sticky bodies apart.

“Nothing. Everything.” I shake my head and settle next to her, trailing my fingertips over her hip. I can't seem to get enough of touching her and I can see the goose flesh my touch raises. “I was just thinking of that mâitre'd at the restaurant. I'm sure he knows exactly what's going on right now.”

“Mm, I'm sure he does. I wonder; has he tried it himself?”

“I wonder if it works on Muggles. I bet it doesn’t.”

“Want to try it?”

“What? Pick some unsuspecting Muggle couple and send it to their table?”

“Well, perhaps. And then we would have to...verify the effects.” She raises her eyebrow at me and gives me a mischievous grin.

“You mean watch them? You are a dirty girl!”

“And you love it!”

“Ah, that I do.” I lean forward and kiss her soft lips again, aware of her hand moving down to grasp my stirring cock. I'm not as young as I used to be, but sometimes, I can amaze myself. This time, I let her do the work, watching as she slowly pistons her body up and down my shaft. With Hermione setting the pace, things progress much more slowly and I use my fingers to bring her off. I am always amazed at the female body's capacity for pleasure.

I can tell she's getting tired and I urge her to stop, pulling her off of me and getting us both under the covers. The buzzing is almost entirely gone, replaced with a feeling of deep relaxation. For once in my life, I'm too relaxed to get off. She curls up next to me for a moment before scooting off of the bed and into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she comes out, bringing me a glass of water.

Drinking it down, I sigh happily. I've been dying for a drink for the last hour. All that reading, and, for some reason, sex has always made me thirsty. Hermione pulls on a long tee shirt and climbs back into bed, snuggling against me. I turn out the lights in the room with my wand and she sighs against my shoulder. “Do you still feel it?” she asks in a whisper.

“No. You?”

“A little.”

We're both quiet and I begin to drift off when I hear her again. “I liked your letter.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I think you deserve full marks for that one.”

“Full marks from a real Hogwarts Professor. I have achieved my last goal in life.”

“Ron, don't joke,” she scolds lightly, picking up my right hand. I feel her moving the gold band around on my finger. “Are you sure you don't mind wearing it?”

“No, love.” And it's not a lie. I thought I would feel odd, wearing a dead man's ring, but truthfully, I'd already forgotten that it was there.

“I'm glad.” She lets go of my hand and lays her arm across my bare chest. A few minutes later, I hear her breathing change and I know she is asleep.

Maybe we'll have dinner at that place again tomorrow night. I think I have another galleon. A moment later, I follow Hermione into a deep, satisfied sleep.


End file.
